The story so far: Vikki, a rebellious youth, was left behind when pirates captured the space ship, Stardiver Four. Whitey, the leader of a small mercenary band, rescued her from pirates; but to protect her he leads them to believe she is a member of the inner circle of security officers that keep order in the pirate's society, a deception that must be maintained even with his own men.
Vikki rolled out of the narrow bunk in the shuttle's small cabin. She stretched to relieve the stiffness and aches left from fleeing pirates and fighting Crow's gang. "Shit, they have to have something to eat around here." She opened drawers and cabinets searching, but found nothing to eat.
She paused at the door of the cramped cabin and let her hand caress the small blaster strapped to her hip. Feeling its cold hard metal gave odd comfort. Unlocking the door she sidestepped cautiously into the narrow corridor.
Food. The thought was an obsession forcing her to rummage through the shuttle. She opened the door to the cargo area; on one side boxes of ammunition and combat gear were stacked to the low ceiling, on the other lay Fatso in the makeshift operating theater. Fatso lay on his back with eyes closed; his breathing was a gurgling wheeze. Her mouth dropped open in shock at the wreck of his face with ragged stitches twisting across the purple swollen flesh. A silver dish on a nearby table held the torn remains of the amputated fingers. She turned to leave the room and throw up the empty contents of her stomach.
"Miss?"
The horse whisper froze her and Vikki whispered her own, "Damn." Turning back to him she saw pathetic begging eyes.
"Miss, could you get me some water?"
"Sure." Looking for water would be as useless as looking for food on the shuttle.
"I think you might find some in that cabinet." He raised a limp ball like bandaged hand motioning to a small door in the wall across the room.
As Vikki turned her back and walked toward the cabinet his eyes drank in her lithe figure. Although he was half drugged the sight of the young woman aroused in him a deep longing. Soon she came back with two bottles.
"Cold? Or how do you like it?"
"Yes, cold."
Setting one bottle down next to the amputated fingers Vikki pushed in the top on the other. Frost formed on the bottle. After twisting the cap off she held it out for him, but he gestured helplessly with his mitten bandaged hands. She sighed and held it to his lips. "Mother of Mary that stings," he groaned as the water touched his torn lips, but closing his eyes Fatso drank it greedily.
"What happened to you?" she asked.
"One of those rogue death-bots." He lied as his eyes roved up and down her form. "It had penned down a bunch of civilians- women and children. I just had to save them no matter what the cost."
"Wow," Vikki said. "That was brave and noble."
He watched her perfect hand and slim fingers lift the other bottle and open it. She brought the bottle to her lips and tilted her head back as she tried to wash the dryness from her throat. When she looked back the pirate had managed to sit up.
The sitting man was a horror to see, his huge bulk rolled into shapeless folds of flesh hardly contained in the black uniform. He was looking at the floor breathing heavily but when he turned his face up to her she saw the same leering look in his eyes that she saw in Crow and the pirates who chased her across the merchant's decks. Fatso's drugged recovery made him slow and his lunge at her tipped the table over and landed him face down on the floor as the metal table clattered over and spun backward to crash against the crates of gear.
The blaster was in her hand of its own action. The nozzle seemed to vibrate as the aiming system sought a target inside the mound of flesh at her feet.
Fatso struggled to his knees. He held his bandaged hands out to her. Loss of blood and drugs made the room spin; in the fog before his eyes floated the lovely young face of a red-haired angel, whose beauty promised salvation. "I'm in love." He thought.
"Don't kill him!" The crashing table brought armed men rushing into the shuttle to see Fatso on his knees with hands held out apparently begging for his life as The Security officer was about to execute him. "Security. We need him."
Old Bill strode to her side. "Good morning Security Officer. I trust you had a good rest."
"He..."
"Shhhh." Bill leaned close. "Remember these men must think you are a heartless cold officer. Don't say another word."
She glanced at the men crowding the doors. "But he tried..."
Bill hissed words only she could hear, "Damn it. Play along if you don't want to become a pirate's toy."
Vikki looked at Bill sideways. She slid the blaster into the holster. I'll play along, she thought. Still holding the bottle of water she tilted her head back and took a long draw. Putting the bottle down with slow purposeful intent she leaned close to the kneeling fat pirate. He closed his eyes and puckered his lips for a kiss. She spit the mouthful into his face.
"Ahhh! It stings!" Fatso curled over and patted his torn face with his bandaged hands. "Ahhh. Oh, Mother of Earth help me. It stings."
The men backed away as Vikki approached a door.
"Security," Bill said, "The safety is off on your weapon."
She stopped. Play along she thought. Without turning she said. "I always keep the safety off. Now what I want to know..." she paused to glare at the astonished men, "Where is my breakfast? And it better not be short rations either."
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Chapter 54
Love, Lust, and Rebellion
Love, Lust, and Rebellion
Vikki rolled out of the narrow bunk in the shuttle's small cabin. She stretched to relieve the stiffness and aches left from fleeing pirates and fighting Crow's gang. "Shit, they have to have something to eat around here." She opened drawers and cabinets searching, but found nothing to eat.
She paused at the door of the cramped cabin and let her hand caress the small blaster strapped to her hip. Feeling its cold hard metal gave odd comfort. Unlocking the door she sidestepped cautiously into the narrow corridor.
Food. The thought was an obsession forcing her to rummage through the shuttle. She opened the door to the cargo area; on one side boxes of ammunition and combat gear were stacked to the low ceiling, on the other lay Fatso in the makeshift operating theater. Fatso lay on his back with eyes closed; his breathing was a gurgling wheeze. Her mouth dropped open in shock at the wreck of his face with ragged stitches twisting across the purple swollen flesh. A silver dish on a nearby table held the torn remains of the amputated fingers. She turned to leave the room and throw up the empty contents of her stomach.
"Miss?"
The horse whisper froze her and Vikki whispered her own, "Damn." Turning back to him she saw pathetic begging eyes.
"Miss, could you get me some water?"
"Sure." Looking for water would be as useless as looking for food on the shuttle.
"I think you might find some in that cabinet." He raised a limp ball like bandaged hand motioning to a small door in the wall across the room.
As Vikki turned her back and walked toward the cabinet his eyes drank in her lithe figure. Although he was half drugged the sight of the young woman aroused in him a deep longing. Soon she came back with two bottles.
"Cold? Or how do you like it?"
"Yes, cold."
Setting one bottle down next to the amputated fingers Vikki pushed in the top on the other. Frost formed on the bottle. After twisting the cap off she held it out for him, but he gestured helplessly with his mitten bandaged hands. She sighed and held it to his lips. "Mother of Mary that stings," he groaned as the water touched his torn lips, but closing his eyes Fatso drank it greedily.
"What happened to you?" she asked.
"One of those rogue death-bots." He lied as his eyes roved up and down her form. "It had penned down a bunch of civilians- women and children. I just had to save them no matter what the cost."
"Wow," Vikki said. "That was brave and noble."
He watched her perfect hand and slim fingers lift the other bottle and open it. She brought the bottle to her lips and tilted her head back as she tried to wash the dryness from her throat. When she looked back the pirate had managed to sit up.
The sitting man was a horror to see, his huge bulk rolled into shapeless folds of flesh hardly contained in the black uniform. He was looking at the floor breathing heavily but when he turned his face up to her she saw the same leering look in his eyes that she saw in Crow and the pirates who chased her across the merchant's decks. Fatso's drugged recovery made him slow and his lunge at her tipped the table over and landed him face down on the floor as the metal table clattered over and spun backward to crash against the crates of gear.
The blaster was in her hand of its own action. The nozzle seemed to vibrate as the aiming system sought a target inside the mound of flesh at her feet.
Fatso struggled to his knees. He held his bandaged hands out to her. Loss of blood and drugs made the room spin; in the fog before his eyes floated the lovely young face of a red-haired angel, whose beauty promised salvation. "I'm in love." He thought.
"Don't kill him!" The crashing table brought armed men rushing into the shuttle to see Fatso on his knees with hands held out apparently begging for his life as The Security officer was about to execute him. "Security. We need him."
Old Bill strode to her side. "Good morning Security Officer. I trust you had a good rest."
"He..."
"Shhhh." Bill leaned close. "Remember these men must think you are a heartless cold officer. Don't say another word."
She glanced at the men crowding the doors. "But he tried..."
Bill hissed words only she could hear, "Damn it. Play along if you don't want to become a pirate's toy."
Vikki looked at Bill sideways. She slid the blaster into the holster. I'll play along, she thought. Still holding the bottle of water she tilted her head back and took a long draw. Putting the bottle down with slow purposeful intent she leaned close to the kneeling fat pirate. He closed his eyes and puckered his lips for a kiss. She spit the mouthful into his face.
"Ahhh! It stings!" Fatso curled over and patted his torn face with his bandaged hands. "Ahhh. Oh, Mother of Earth help me. It stings."
The men backed away as Vikki approached a door.
"Security," Bill said, "The safety is off on your weapon."
She stopped. Play along she thought. Without turning she said. "I always keep the safety off. Now what I want to know..." she paused to glare at the astonished men, "Where is my breakfast? And it better not be short rations either."
* * *
Vikki ate breakfast alone in the shuttle bay. She sat on a crate separated from the men who were more than willing to keep their distance from her. Finishing the plate of food she held it out and men rushed to replace it with another. She was fascinated by the confident fighters most of whom were young, handsome, lean and fit. She admired them. Their sly glances pleased her." These guys could be fun." she thought. "Screw what the Boss and Old Bill said about being the kind of woman who scares men away. I can handle them."
"A workout would be good." She knew the men would watch her with enslaved longing. She was a dancer who had taken lessons for so long it was second nature to her. "A good session of stretching and a few routines will make me feel myself."
She walked to a cluster of men and set the plate down. "Did I miss the morning drills?"
The men looked at each other and back at her in confusion.
"I guess my security unit is more disciplined. We exercise daily."
"We train and practice regularly, miss. It is just that we are still recovering from the capture of the ship."
"Besides, we have orders to fulfill." Another added.
"I suppose you're older and need your rest. I am going to the gym." She turned around and started for the portal. All eyes watched her.
"Hey! Where are you going?" Old Bill called out from the shuttle.
"The gym. I don't need your permission to do so, do I?"
"As a matter of fact, you do."
"You are wrong. And I am going"
"Shit girl!" Guys! Go with her and keep her out of trouble. None of us wants to tell the boss we lost his security officer."
Vikki could barely hide the smile as she led the way through the dark halls to the gym. She could almost feel their eyes roving up and down her body as she sauntered ahead of them
Vikki crossed the floor kicking trash away, and shoving equipment clear. The Raiders were out of their element; some took defensive positions, some helped with the clean-up, and others explored the gym with athletic curiosity.
Pressing the collar computer shut down her suit and it slipped off. The undergarments were thin, minimal and skin tight. Space-faring men seldom had the pleasure of seeing a woman without the protection of the space suit. Their gaze not only pleased her it was thrilling.
Stopping in the center of the floor, She did her pre-dance stretching exercises. It had never been so cold in the gym. Her breath floated in white vapor as she bent in exotic ways only a trained dancer could bend. She finished standing on one foot as she brought the other behind her head, arching her back.
She began to dance to her own imagined music; it was in her sub-conscience and in the memory of her muscles. The steps and turns were familiar, the routine flowed through her; it was comfort- dance was a friend.
The mercenaries watched barely able to keep professional discipline.
Someone else watched. With a killer's stealth, the death-bot crept into the gym and hid in the shadows. Seeing her reflection in the wall length mirror she whispered, "I am no longer Julia the Avenging Deathbot. Now I am Julia, God's Agent of Justice." Julia's evil software was tangled between her programming to kill without mercy all she met, and the new download of the religious library from the sanctuary of faith.
She read the life signs from the systems in the mercenary's suits. The heart rate, blood pressure, and respiration were increasing. "Jezebel!" The death-bot whispered. "She's a Jezebel enticing those men to the sin of lust. She should be taught to repent." Julia analyzed the pose, posture, attitude and movement of the men. She accessed and downloaded the records in their weapons and body cameras. "These men used no lethal force during the battle. I will have to talk to Cesar about them. Could they be righteous?"
Julia watched and planned her attack on the Jezebel, but programming fought within her systems. "They love her! Why her? Why not me?" Turning to the wall of mirrors she studied her own image. "You made me a child! You gave me stumpy legs, not long ones, no flowing hair, no full chest, or shapely waist." The mirror showed Julia, just Julia, a short stocky and plain faced child. "Daddy, I hate you. You could have made me a woman to be loved, but instead you made me a kid." Her eyes refocused on the reflections of the men and she registered their alertness toward Vikki.
The death-bot recorded all of Vikki's dance moves. "I can do that. I can dance. I can make them love me too." She came out of the shadows and began to dance for the men.
The room crackled as men crouched into combat positions bringing weapons to shoulder with sights set on the small intruder who danced in perfect sync with Vikki. As Julia danced she sent a virus to each man's weapons systems resetting their targeting onto Vikki.
(c) Adron
"A workout would be good." She knew the men would watch her with enslaved longing. She was a dancer who had taken lessons for so long it was second nature to her. "A good session of stretching and a few routines will make me feel myself."
She walked to a cluster of men and set the plate down. "Did I miss the morning drills?"
The men looked at each other and back at her in confusion.
"I guess my security unit is more disciplined. We exercise daily."
"We train and practice regularly, miss. It is just that we are still recovering from the capture of the ship."
"Besides, we have orders to fulfill." Another added.
"I suppose you're older and need your rest. I am going to the gym." She turned around and started for the portal. All eyes watched her.
"Hey! Where are you going?" Old Bill called out from the shuttle.
"The gym. I don't need your permission to do so, do I?"
"As a matter of fact, you do."
"You are wrong. And I am going"
"Shit girl!" Guys! Go with her and keep her out of trouble. None of us wants to tell the boss we lost his security officer."
Vikki could barely hide the smile as she led the way through the dark halls to the gym. She could almost feel their eyes roving up and down her body as she sauntered ahead of them
* * *
"Oh man. Just look at this place!" The deshelved scene was a disappointment. Vikki longed for the gym's dance floor to be an oasis of normal familiarity, but the battle for the ship was fought in every quarter as the pirates fought for the ship inch by inch. The once orderly gym now looked like an abandoned junkyard. The walls had scars of blasters and splashes of dried blood, equipment was in disarray, and the wood floor was littered with gym equipment and debris of warfare.Vikki crossed the floor kicking trash away, and shoving equipment clear. The Raiders were out of their element; some took defensive positions, some helped with the clean-up, and others explored the gym with athletic curiosity.
Pressing the collar computer shut down her suit and it slipped off. The undergarments were thin, minimal and skin tight. Space-faring men seldom had the pleasure of seeing a woman without the protection of the space suit. Their gaze not only pleased her it was thrilling.
Stopping in the center of the floor, She did her pre-dance stretching exercises. It had never been so cold in the gym. Her breath floated in white vapor as she bent in exotic ways only a trained dancer could bend. She finished standing on one foot as she brought the other behind her head, arching her back.
She began to dance to her own imagined music; it was in her sub-conscience and in the memory of her muscles. The steps and turns were familiar, the routine flowed through her; it was comfort- dance was a friend.
The mercenaries watched barely able to keep professional discipline.
Someone else watched. With a killer's stealth, the death-bot crept into the gym and hid in the shadows. Seeing her reflection in the wall length mirror she whispered, "I am no longer Julia the Avenging Deathbot. Now I am Julia, God's Agent of Justice." Julia's evil software was tangled between her programming to kill without mercy all she met, and the new download of the religious library from the sanctuary of faith.
She read the life signs from the systems in the mercenary's suits. The heart rate, blood pressure, and respiration were increasing. "Jezebel!" The death-bot whispered. "She's a Jezebel enticing those men to the sin of lust. She should be taught to repent." Julia analyzed the pose, posture, attitude and movement of the men. She accessed and downloaded the records in their weapons and body cameras. "These men used no lethal force during the battle. I will have to talk to Cesar about them. Could they be righteous?"
Julia watched and planned her attack on the Jezebel, but programming fought within her systems. "They love her! Why her? Why not me?" Turning to the wall of mirrors she studied her own image. "You made me a child! You gave me stumpy legs, not long ones, no flowing hair, no full chest, or shapely waist." The mirror showed Julia, just Julia, a short stocky and plain faced child. "Daddy, I hate you. You could have made me a woman to be loved, but instead you made me a kid." Her eyes refocused on the reflections of the men and she registered their alertness toward Vikki.
The death-bot recorded all of Vikki's dance moves. "I can do that. I can dance. I can make them love me too." She came out of the shadows and began to dance for the men.
The room crackled as men crouched into combat positions bringing weapons to shoulder with sights set on the small intruder who danced in perfect sync with Vikki. As Julia danced she sent a virus to each man's weapons systems resetting their targeting onto Vikki.
(c) Adron
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Adron
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